Battle of Tu Shen - Prologue
by Quirnheim
Summary: Witness the lead-up to the Battle of Tu Shen, where the life of the last Mogu Emperor, Lao-Fe was ended.
1. Part 1

The mogu sentry sighed as he stepped back onto the gravel road. Lazily carrying his spear resting against his shoulder, the soldier looked left and right once more, searching for signs of movement – and once again, nothing. Following the road, the sentry soon came to the cave entrance near the top of Tu Shen road – inside, the small statue of a Mogu warrior, fists clenched and wielding knuckle-punchers, a favored weapon of the ancient era, stood solitary, the dim glow provided by a small set of candles off to one side. It was clear that there was no one inside, either.

Turning around, the sentry nodded toward his partner, who had appeared at the cave entrance beside him. Roughly thirty minutes ago, the pair had been sent to the Tu Shen road to investigate the glow of bonfires in the area. It was clear that there should be no one there – and from their search, they could find no trace of any bonfires or persons of any kind.

"Bah!" the sentry sighed, turning back towards the road, dimly illuminated by the moonlight shining above, "There is no one here. I see no trace of bonfires, either. This whole search has been a waste of time."

His partner followed alongside him as the pair walked down the road. "The slave village reported that they saw something." he shrugged, turning his head to face the sentry, "My guess is that the slaves got scared of the moonlight. You know how fearful and stupid they are."

"Either way! To send us here looking as fools do..." the sentry muttered as he and his partner paused, peering out over the edge of the cliff-face they stood atop. The Vale of Eternal Blossoms was eerily quiet this time of night – the faint cricket of insects and the faraway crackling of fires could be heard, but little else. It was almost peaceful, in a way.

His partner looked at him, a grin of malevolent glee crossing his face. "When we return to the slave village, we'll tell the Taskmaster that we found nothing. I am sure he will be more then happy to discipline the slaves who sent us here in the first place. And you know how...corrective...his methods are."

This brought laughs to the pair – but only briefly. As they laughed, the silence was interrupted by the crack of branches and the rustling of foliage off to the side of the road. Spinning around abruptly, the pair raised their weapons – the sentry's spear and his partner's shield, and from his scabard, sword.

"In the name of the Empire, I command you to show yourself!" the sentry barked, waving his spear menacingly in front of him slightly.

His partner appeared to perk up, his ears shooting straight in attention. Turning to the sentry, he nodded and motioned with his hand to the cluster of bushes off to their right. The duo advanced into the brush slowly, weapons ready.

Bursting through the other side, they found themselves on another section of the road – and nothing was there. As the pair stood, looking around in bewilderment, they found themselves staring into the bushes and foliage all around them – which appeared, curiously, to stare back.

The pair did not have time to scream before the monks descended on them.


	2. Part 2

"On three, toss them! One..two...three!"

With a mighty heave, the group of about a dozen Pandaren threw the bodies of the two Mogu sentries down the Tu Shen road, their bodies smashing into the ground with a resounding thud. As the group turned to walk away, Kang mockingly wiped his hands in the air as he turned back around, a grin upon his heavyset face.

"There, you see, Shu? Getting in -was- easy." he bellowed.

Shu Blindeye, for his part, nodded at his friend. He was, of course, right – the rebels had managed to access the Vale remarkably easily – well, as easily as rebels could. They had spent the better part of the last 24 hours rappelling up the side of the Valley's mountainous wall that boarded the Vale. Hundreds of rebels, Pandaren monks, Hozen tribesmen and Jinyu watertalkers all scaled the cliffside. They had come out onto the Tu Shen road, which was just a few hours trek away from the Palace.

As Shu and Kang walked back to the main group, where the rebels unrolled makeshift sleeping bags made of hay and linen, or set up cooking fires and ate, they both appeared to stop to, almost admire what they saw – the races of the land, working together and uniting as one, fighting and dying for a common purpose: freedom. The freedom to live, to work, to breathe without the cruel whips of their Mogu masters breaking them. There had been slave revolts before, but they had all lacked the unity that Shu and Kang's rebels did. They also lacked chi.

Chi was the positive energies of the land. Chi was how Kang had taught his fellow slaves, Shu included, the arts of the 'monk'. Since the mogu ruled through fear, Kang had said, the slaves needed to depose them through hope. Chi was the hope of a people. Chi was the faith of a brighter future. It was clear that Kang's training had given the Pandaren slaves a new vigor, and they had risen up once again – only this time, their new training had proven very effective against the Mogu and their weapons of fear. Shu and Kang had rallied the other slaves of the Valley, they had overthrown most of the imperial slave camps and guard posts in the region and secured the farmlands for themselves – but this was only their first step.

Taking their seats at a campfire, Shu and Kang nodded to the duo already present.

"Well, Watertalker, this is it." Shu began, his green eye training onto the Jinyu woman before him. "This is what we've trained for. Why we've done all of this." Reaching his hands out, Shu put them up to the fire and felt the warmth soothe his hands, which still ached from the long trek up the Valley.

Watertalker Tai-She nodded. She was a slim built Jinyu with pinkish skin and deep blue eyes. Clad only in a tattered robe of leftover silk, her appearance was deceptive – the Jinyu Watertalkers were among the most fiercest warriors that the rebels had on their side. Tai-She had been chosen to lead the Jinyu slaves – who, while not learning of the ways of Chi and the monk arts – had their own weapons – mostly modified farming equipment – and the ancient aquatic arts of the long deposed Pearlfin Empire. The Watertalkers could listen to the very rivers themselves – and it was through this that Shu and Kang knew when to strike.

"Fear not, Lord Blindeye," Tai-She rumbled, her voice low and soothing, as always. "You have lead us well thus far. I have no illusions that fortune will favor us even now."

Shu sighed. He still was not used to being known as "lord"; many of the Jinyu had regarded him as their savior – as it was the Pandaren who liberated the Jinyu slave camps along the edge of the Yan-Zhe River – but he felt that it was not warranted. While it was indeed Shu and the monks who had freed the Jinyu, they had rallied behind Tai-She and rose up against the Mogu with them. They were partners in a unified goal, not subjects to be ruled.

"Still," It was Kang who spoke up, his mouth full of hardtak bread, "We have to always be ready and aware, Watertalker. The Empire won't wait around for us to plan our attack, after all – though, I wish that they did." He chuckled, patting Shu on the back.

"This...it still puts me at great unease, friends." Shu sighed, keeping his hands close to the fire. "We strike into the very heart of the empire itself, and we have a lofty goal – we will have one opportunity, and if we fail, it will nay come again."

"Are ya still all ooked out about the what ifs, Shoe?"

The voice that spoke up next was the Hozen who sat beside Tai-She. This was Chieftan Ack Ick, the leader – or, what could pass as leader – of the Hozen rebels who had joined Shu's army. The Hozen had willingly embraced Shu's cause and – something that struck him as remarkable – rallied as a species behind him. They had suffered long and hard at the hands of the Mogu, perhaps even more so then the Pandaren and Jinyu – the Hozen were, as rumors often spoke, used as domestic pets in some homes of the upper-classes of the Empire.

Ack Ick tilted his head and smiled at Shu, his grin reflected off the fire. "Ya can't spend this worryin' about how it could be, Shoe!" Raising his palms up, he held them out in front of him – if Shu didn't know any better, he'd think that he was being mocked. "It's like what Kang be saying about all the happy stuff! Sure, this be bad business, grookin' those imperial dookers, but we're already ahead of 'em."

Kang laughed. "Ack's right, Shu. Let's stop worrying about if and worry about when."

Ack Ick kept his clownish smile upon his face. "And when the mogu be sending more dookers to grook us, we ook 'em before they can! The Hozen be ready." Even though the Hozen were, at the best of times, bizarre and unreliable, they were fierce fighters. Shu had seen this first hand while battling the imperial armies sent to retake the Valley – Ack Ick and his Hozen had thrown their farming equipment with frightening accuracy, felling imperial soldiers by the dozen without losing any of their own. They also knew how to dig – and dig very well. It was thanks to the Hozen that so many of Shu's rebels had been able to store away hundreds of pounds of food and supplies to be kept safe from imperial hands.

Shu looked about before nodding. Reaching up to his face, he ran his paw over his left eye – or, where his left eye would be. His eye had been removed when he was a cub as punishment for his father's defiance of their Mogu slavemaster – the 'defiance', in this case being unable to grow larger crops.

"The mogu may have taken my eye -" he clenched his fist suddenly, his breath quickening somewhat, "-but we, in turn, will take our freedom."


	3. Part 3

The stench of the slave village was overwhelming – bits of paper and garbage were strewn about, while the smell of flies and rot permeated the air around most of the cabins. The village, which consisted of a few dozen ramshackle houses, was overlooked by the prison up the mountainside path and the guardposts. It was here where Taskmaster Penglao made his court. As head of the village, it was his role to distribute work assignments, approve transfers – and of course, handle discipline. The Empire counted on him to do his job, and it was one that he did well.

But this was insufferable. Several nights ago, some of the slaves had spoken of seeing bonfires off to the Tu Shen road to the north. Eventually, Penglao had grown tired of the incessant whining of the slaves -even after he had two of them put to death – that they had seen something, and dispatched a pair of soldiers to investigate. He had assumed that the soldiers would come back and claim to have seen nothing, and Penglao would be free to discipline those who would dare waste his time.

But when his soldiers had not come back, Penglao grew anxious. And then angry. And then enraged.

Slamming his fist down upon his desk, he snarled towards his assistant, Panzu. "PANZU! Where are those guards with the slave who found them?!" Rage coursed through his voice as he spat towards the other man – two hours ago, a slave had found the bodies of his soldiers upon the Tu Shen road's bottom passageway.

Panzu shook his head, a quizzical expression upon his face. "They should have been here by now, Taskmaster. Perhaps -"

"Perhaps nothing!" Penglao growled, smashing his fist down again, "When I say I want a slave, I WANT THEM NOW! I swear, by the Gods, if they are spending their time beating the slave instead of bringing him to me, I will kill them myself."

Panzu shrugged. His master, Penglao, was always an angry and hotheaded man, but the recent uprising in the Valley had made him even worse. The loss of the Valley, the imperial breadbasket, had prompted panic in the imperial capitol and outlying towns and cities.

"My lord," a voice piqued up. As the voice spoke, the slender figure of a woman strode into the Taskmaster's office. The woman was Qizai, Penglao's secretary. She wore a simple fitting dress that appeared too big for her slim form – something that Panzu always found strange.

"What now, Qizai?" Penglao barked, turning his head to face her.

"It is high noon, my lord."

"Ah, yes.." Penglao nodded, before bending down to the drawer of his desk. Opening it, he pulled out a roll of ka-lao, a delicacy among the mogu. Made of stuffed redbelly mandarin and seasoned with pumpkin spices, the food was Penglao's favorite. Despite there being severe food shortages in some outlying provinces – indeed, even the Imperial Council had ordered rationing – Penglao still indulged in this excess.

As the Taskmaster devoured the roll greedily, he noticed Qizai still staring at him. "I know I am an attractive man, but you have work to do! Get back to it, woman!" he barked, crumbs spewing from his mouth.

Qizai bowed her head and returned to the front of the room. Panzu folded his hands in front of him and simply stared ahead, waiting for his master to finish his meal. As he snarfed down the last of the roll, Panzu spoke up. "Master, should we not be more concerned with the slaves here? After all, the rebellion -"

"It is not a rebellion, Panzu!" Penglao spewed, turning to face him. "It is just another sad, pathetic attempt by a group of sad, pathetic slaves to frighten us. And they will do no such thing." As he spoke, the Taskmaster adjusted the belt upon his gold and red uniform uncomfortably.

Just then, the duo was interrupted with a knock at the door. "Let them in, Qizai!" Panzu shouted as the woman opened the door. Inside marched one of the garrison's soldiers, leading a battered male Pandaren slave into the room.

Entering the Taskmaster's office, the soldier saluted. "Taskmaster! I have the worm who found the bodies earlier today."

Penglao glared at the man. "And it only took you two hours, idiot! Would you care to tell me why you delay the Empire when it comes to the deaths of two of its soldiers?"

The soldier shifted uncomfortably. "With all pardons, Taskmaster, this slave was decidedly difficult to locate. It seems that in the midst of the lock-down, the slaves are becoming more reluctant to speak about critical matters."

Panzu nodded. When news of the rebellion had started, the Taskmaster had ordered the village to be locked down – while the slaves were not at their work assignments, they would be confined to their cabins, with their only free-time being at meals. It was a sensible policy, to be sure, but the slaves, as always, did not appreciate the action.

"Bah!" Penglao snarled. "No matter." the Taskmaster stood up from his chair and approached the slave. When he stood in front of the Pandaren, he waved his hand dismissively. "Leave me. All of you."

As the rest of the mogu filed out of the building, Penglao turned his full attention to his...guest. Striking the Pandaren across the face with a harsh slap, he forced the man down onto the floor upon his back, before kneeling down and grabbing him by the throat with both of his hands, throttling him.

"So, slave.." Penglao spoke, slowly, allowing his breath to waft into the slave's face. "You found the bodies of my soldiers. Yet there is one problem...they were found OUTSIDE the secure zone. Which means that, of course..." the Taskmaster grinned malevolently. "You were violating our curfew."

The Pandaren slave's lip trembled, blood trickling from where the Taskmaster had slapped him. "But m-m-master, I reported the bo-bodies.." the slave blubbered desperately, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

Penglao snarled and smashed the slave's head into the carpet – not hard enough to kill, but enough to express his anger at the man's defiance. "I did not ask you for excuses, mongrel! I want to know where you found the bodies and why you were outside MY secure zone!"

The man groaned, his head spinning as he struggled to look at the Taskmaster. "I...I was trying to g-gather some food in the r-r-road's edge...berries or anything, master, we are so hungry – and I happened to see the crows gathering overhead. So I...I went to see what they had found and I found the bodies of the s-soldiers. I swear to you!"

"Lies!" Penglao spat at the man's face, swearing violently. "You killed them, didn't you? But you are just one pathetic, grovelling fool. Who helped you? Where are they? Tell me now!"

"I did nothing, master! I s-swear! I...I found this! It was next to the b-bodies! I swear!" The slave motioned to his belt, where Penglao could see something fashioned to the ragged straw.

Growling, the Taskmaster stood up and grabbed for the object. Pulling it free of the slave's belt, he fixed his eyes onto it and away from the sobbing slave. It was a small, bronze badge – upon it was the picture of a spear thrusting into a sea of grain.

Penglao, at least inwardly, paled at the sight. He recognized the badge, of course – it was carried by Imperion Tar-huz, the commander – at least, until recently – of the military garrison in the Valley of the Four Winds. Tar-huz, of course, had been killed at the hands of the 'rebels' who had somehow managed to wrestle control of the farmlands away from the Mogu. It was then that Penglao realized – this was not a random act of violence by angry slaves. This was a message – the rebels had come to the Vale.


	4. Part 4

"We must send a runner to the Palace, at once." Panzu paced back and forth in front of the Taskmaster's desk. In the room with him was Jonqin, vice-adjutant of the slave camps and Penglao's second in command. The imposing red Mogu snarled at Panzu as he spoke.

"We will do no such thing!" Penglao shook his head, eyes still affixed on the Imperion badge. "We m-must handle this before things get out of hand."

Panzu stopped his pacing and faced the Taskmaster. "Master, the rebel army is in the Vale itself. I do not know how, but they are here, somewhere. We MUST inform the Emperor – he must mobilize the Emperor's Shield and track them down!"

Jonqin spoke now. "No! The Emperor need not hear about this...it is merely a series of coincidences. My Lord," the vice-adjutant turned to face Panglao, "Simply have this slave killed and be done with it. No one need set off a panic over some unfounded rumours."

Panzu snarled towards Jonqin. "You must be delusional! These are not unfounded rumors, Jonqin, but provided proof! The slave found the badge on the body of one of our soldiers – it is obvious that they themselves did not carry it with them, so the conclusion is simple – the rebels killed our men and placed the badge there to carry it as a warning – a warning that says 'we are here and we will kill you all'."

Jonqin growled and stood to face Panzu. "You are simply spouting lies here, Panzu, like the little yakrat that you are. You want to make yourself look credible in the eyes of the Emperor – so you would spread unfounded rumours to the Taskmaster to make him uneasy?!"

"I am trying to preserve the Empire, Jonqin!" Panzu growled back, fists clenching as he spoke. "Unlike you, who seem only interested in your own position and prestige.."

"ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!" Penglao growled, standing up and leaning into the argument. "My decision is final. No...there is no need to inform the Palace. We will handle this ourselves. Jonqin, have the slave in question killed. Dump his body in the woods."

Turning to Panzu, Penglao nodded. "Panzu. Take this badge and dispose of it. Disobey me and I will flay you alive – you know that to not simply be an empty threat."

As Panzu left the Taskmaster's office, he slid the badge into his pocket. If the Taskmaster would not make the effort – well, he would.


	5. Part 5

The scent of rolled rain poppy as it burned always served to incite him to smoke more of it. As Emperor Lao-Fe inhaled deeply from his pipe, he looked at the various reports, documents, petitions and the like before him. Even here, in his quarters, he could not escape the useless drudgery of imperial business. Exhaling sharply, he picked up the latest report he had recently received – the so-called 'rebel army' that had, outrageously dared to cut off the Valley of the Four Winds from the Empire's hand, were apparently attempting to rally more support in the outer regions – perhaps, the report suggested, from the Serpent's Spine wall itself.

Lao-fe grew tired of this rebellion. Many Mogu emperors had faced insolent slave revolts before, and Lao-Fe was assured that this was no different. The fools simply needed...corrections. Shaking his head, he perused the two-page summary for a moment before tossing it off to the side. Looking down at his robes, he tightened his belt, a grin flashing on his face. The Imperial Council pattered about like fools – their pessimism was shocking for Mogu warriors, Lao-Fe thought. The Empire's strongman would not allow anyone – not the slaves, not the Council, not anyone – to jeopardize his Empire.

"It is ironic that they spread panic. The fools. It will be their downfall." He muttered aloud to no one in particular as he stood up, walking over to one of the double-paned windows of his quarters. Opening it, in inhaled the sharp, brisk morning air of the Valley. Below him was the Palace's other levels, and he could see various people – Mogu, slaves, grummle messengers – going about their business. Even with this useless revolt underway, Lao-Fe could not help but smile. He was in his eleventh year as Emperor – since deposing the fool Tsao, who had been some kind of mental deliquent with his proposals of support for slave rights – as if such a thing existed – he had presided over his people and the slaves with a firm fist. The people had complained – the taxes were too high, the roads were broken, and so on – but a quick military response had always silenced the masses in a hurry.

The Empire was still strong. It would be strong as long as he ruled it. No matter who had to die – the cost, be it in slaves or Mogu, was worth it. It was what the Thunder King intended, all those milennia ago, when he had created the Empire. The strong survive. The weak die.

His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sighing, he turned back around, brushing his red hair out of his eyes and grasping for an elastic from his bedside table. As he put his hair into a ponytail, he bellowed, "Enter."

The tall, dark blue figure of a soldier clad in the green and gold uniform of the Emperor's Shield, the royal bodyguard unit of the Emperor himself, entered the room. Bowing with reverence, the man clasped his hands in front of him – a gesture of submission among the Mogu; to see one's hands is to know one's intentions – exposed hands could not drive a dagger into your back.

"What is it, soldier?" Lao-Fe nodded wearily in his direction.

"Your Majesty, I beseech you for interrupting your day.." the soldier began, "But Lord Toraqen bid me to inform you of a delivery of an urgent message from the slave camp near Guo-Lai. It is marked with the red eagle."

Lao-Fe raised his eyebrows. The marking of a red eagle upon a letter or message was a sign of vital, life-threatening urgency. Red was the color of blood, after all, and the eagle was the sign of swiftness. "What does the message say? And why is Toraqen reading this missive?!" Lao-Fe barked. Toraqen was Lao-Fe's steward – who did not have the right to open the Emperor's mail.

"He has not, My Lord." The guardsman paused before shifting uncomfortably. "The message was marked for your eyes only."

"Bring it to me!" Lao-Fe barked. Must he do everything?

The guardsman bowed before exiting the room – presumably, going to fetch Toraqen with this missive. Lao-Fe sighed as he took his seat at the desk once more – it appears that today was going to be another test of his patience – as every other day always eventually turned out to be.


	6. Part 6 - Finale

Lao-Fe adjusted his green and gold chest armour, working the straps at the side to ensure that the plate protected what it was supposed to. As two Jinyu slaves held aloft a large mirror, he turned his head to the left, where his adviser, Toraquen, stood, hands clasped in front of him.

"Your majesty, I must ask you once more to reconsider this -"

The Emperor let out a mighty laugh as he secured the side straps of his armour. "You put too much faith in these slaves, Toraquen." He then reached down to the table at his right and grasped his wrist-guards. "You make them sound as if they actually pose a challenge to my Empire." As he secured the second one to his form, he grinned. "They do not."

Toraquen shifted the belt on his uniform from left to right as he shook his head. "Perhaps, but with respect, Majesty, how then, were these slaves able to penetrate the Vale's defenses? They must have some measure of skill, even as primitive as they are."

Lao-Fe scowled. The missive that had arrived at the Palace several hours prior had been signed by Panzu, who the Emperor knew as an advisor to Taskmaster Panglao, the overseer of the slave village near Tu Shen. It noted that the insignia of Imperion Tar-huz – who had been slaughtered by the slave rebels several weeks ago – was found on the bodies of two soldiers near Tu Shen. This was an alarming revelation for both the Imperial Council and the Emperor – and he had left their chamber in a fury, readying himself for battle. He'd ordered Imperion Karhaq, commander of the Emperor's Shield, to prepare the guard for battle – he would not allow the Council and the rest of their stooges the glory of suppressing these rebels.

He would slaughter them himself.

"We are Mogu," Lao-Fe waved the slaves away and stepped up to his adviser's chest. "And I am not going to allow us to quiver like scared children because of these mongrels! Now, Toraquen – cease this cowardly talk else I have you thrown into the dungeons for a...correction session with the Inquisitors." Leering into his advisers' rapidly paling face, Lao-Fe grinned malevolently. He had no intention of throwing his adviser aside, of course – even for his cowardice, the man was a cunning player at the political game – but he needed to remind Toraquen that he was the master.

Strolling over to the gold and red armoire off to the left-hand side of the room, Lao-Fe reached inside and grasped his cloak – a black and gold colored affair, embroidered with the finest silk from the provinces of the Empire and studded with bright red rubies. Wrapping it around his person, he turned back around to face the exit.

Pulling on the final part of his armor – the gloves – he strolled over to the door and pushed it open, Toraquen following obediently behind him.

As Lao-Fe and Toraquen marched confidently through the halls of the Mogu'shan Palace, trailed by two of the Emperor's Shield, slaves and soldiers alike bowed before them as they passed. This was how it should be – slaves know their place, and those who were lesser then he served him, Lao-Fe mused. Things had – much to his disgust – not gone well the last few years. It was not only this rebellion, this insolence by the slaves that had earned his ire, but many others. House Tsao – the allies and family of his deceased predecessor, the Emperor Lao-Fe had overthrown – had been attempting to agitate the populace against him. There were protests – protests! - in cities such as Mogujia and Twinspire over increased taxes. This rebellion was merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Lao-Fe stopped before a tall Mogu clad in the gold and green armour of the Shield – but this one wore a gold and red sash across his left shoulder. This was Imperion Karhaq – the man's light blue skin glistened in the sunlight as he bowed before the Emperor.

"Your Majesty. I have done as you have requested. The Shield is mobilized."

Lao-Fe nodded approvingly, staring down the steep staircase that the trio gathered at. This lead down to the main staging area of the Palace, where the hustle and bustle of Imperial life could best be seen. "Good. How many?"

Karhaq shuffled a moment before answering. "Within such a limited time frame, I was able to assemble three hundred of our finest. They await your commands, Your Majesty."

"Good, good." Lao-Fe paced up and down, biting on his bottom lip. "With the Shield at my side, we will rend these rebels from existence itself. They will beg us for death while we make them suffer our wrath."

"My Lord, there is s-something else." Karhaq turned to face him, biting his upper lip anxiously. "If we were to...delay the assault for several days, I could have one thousand men and women of the First Legion here to support us. The rebels would stand no chance, then -"

Lao-Fe's sharp glare caught the Imperion by surprise. "Are you suggesting that I -hold off-, Karhaq?! Against slaves – slaves who are armed with farm tools?! By the Gods, has cowardice taken hold of everyone in my court?"

"Your Majesty, perhaps the Imperion is right." Toraquen piped in, raising his hand. "We could request sorcerers from Shan'ze Dao itself and support from the Shao-Tien. The rebels would be doomed!"

Lao-Fe scoffed, spitting in frustration upon the carpeted floor. "You two are suggesting that I ask the Imperial Clans for help in putting down this pitiful revolt – Would you like me to go before them like a scared mushan beast and beg, as well?"

The Emperor smashed his hand into the gold hand rail as he stomped down the stairs. Pausing at the halfway point – not discounting the dozens of soldiers, slaves, and administrative personnel on the ground who stared up at him – he pointed his fingers at the two men. "I will not have this. I will NOT allow you to make me look foolish. I know your game, gentlemen – you seek to elevate yourselves at my expense. I care not who you answer to – the Council, even Tsao's mongrel family themselves! I am your Emperor. And I expect – nay, I demand your obedience!"

Toraquen and Karhaq stared, mouths agape for a moment, before they rushed down the stairs to join Lao-Fe, flanked by the two guardsmen.

The main concourse of the Palace bustled with activity. Merchants hawked their wares, slaves ran to and fro, carrying packages, polishing the large statues, or otherwise serving the Empire, and ordinary citizens – the men and women of the Empire, the artisans, blacksmiths, healers, etc – milled about, going about their business.

"Kneel before the Enlightened One, The Savior of the Empire and Successor of the Great Thunder King, Emperor Lao-Fe The Slavebinder!"

A voice boomed out across the hall. At once, as if time itself had come to a halt, everything stopped. The chatter and echos in the room ceased as everyone minus the on-guard soldiers – who snapped to attention – knelt in reverence for the Emperor. Lao-Fe himself, accompanied by Imperion Karhaq and Toraquen, filed down the massive golden staircase off the left hand side of the concourse, strolling confidently past the two fountains on either side.

Coming to the bottom of the massive staircase, the Emperor's entourage marched confidently through the halls, as the Slavebinder himself looked about, taking note of all those in attendance who knelt before him. Anyone who failed to kneel without a good reason – and in the Empire, there was almost no such thing as a 'good reason' – faced severe punishment, up to and including death, depending on how the Emperor's mood was that day.

The Emperor held aloft a large spear – this was Tongku, his favored spear. The weapon – which meant 'agony' in the Mogu tongue – glistened with a golden shine. At his side in its scabbard was his sword – a weapon that he had carried with him since his beginnings as a grunt in the service of Clan Kargesh.

As one, the guardsmen and women lining the concourse snapped their feet together and bowed low as they filed past. Lao-Fe ignored them all, now – his mind was focused on the mission at hand. Three hundred of his soldiers, the Emperor's Shield, supported by several dozen cannon, would be marching to Tu Shen to destroy – nay, annihilate – the slaves who dared raise their hands in defiance. Even though his allies doubted him, the Slavebinder would show them all why HE was their Emperor. Why it was His right to rule.

As the entourage reached the end of the hall – before them stood the massive doors leading to the Palace exit – Lao-Fe looked back, over his Palace. His Empire.

He smiled. No one would take this away from him. Not now – not ever.

In the green field that faced the Palace, the men and women of the Emperor's Shield stood ramrod stiff as they awaited their Emperor and Imperion. The Shield was the most well trained, well-equipped and well funded legion in the Empire – no one, not even the Imperial Council – could command them aside from the Emperor. They cared not what mission awaited them – only that they had been called to arms.

Lao-Fe and his entourage arrived, marching out into the field. Out in the distance were the two massive statues that flanked the set of large spires in the Vale – built by the Thunder King when the Empire was young, it served a constant reminder of who were the masters of this land.

As Lao-Fe marched through the sea of guardsmen to the head of the group, he found a female Mogu soldier holding a large wooden stick. Upon the stick were four chains – which affixed to four Jinyu male slaves, who stood off to the side, eyes glancing down and bowing slightly. Next to the group was his carrying chair, a plush, silken chair with a canopy – the four Jinyu would have the honor of carrying him into battle.

"Your Majesty. I am Slavehandler Taiq." The female Mogu bowed as she handed him the wooden stick. "These are the four strongest slaves I have. They will carry you high and strong – or they will die."

Nodding, Lao-Fe looked at the four. They were as disgusting as any other Jinyu – scaled, fish like – but they were more toned and muscular. "Good, Slavehandler. I will take it from here."

Grasping the handle, Lao-Fe pulled on it sharply – which caused the four slaves to gasp out as they rushed to his side. Smirking, he pointed at the carrying chair and the four slaves quickly grasped the handles and hoisted it into the air, resting it upon their shoulders.

Looking about, he spotted a young Pandaren boy at Imperion Karhaq's side. "Boy!" he boomed, startling the youngster, who rushed over to him. "On your knees. I need a lift."

The boy nodded weakly and dropped onto his knees, and then his hands as he prostrated himself. Stepping upon the boy's back, the Emperor pushed himself up into the carrying chair and took his seat. Waving the boy away, Imperion Karhaq joined him at the side of the chair.

"We await your command to march, Your Majesty." Karhaq saluted, staring out in the sea of green and gold troops.

Lao-Fe nodded. "Soldiers of the Empire!" he shouted. "We go today to slaughter a rabble of slaves who have dared raise their hands to strike at us. Instead of knowing their place, they have dared to spit in our faces despite the infinite kindness we show to them in allowing them to toil for our benefit. I will not have it. Soldiers of the Shield – give no mercy and show them no quarter. The Empire is demanding your service – and you will answer the call."

As one, the Emperor's Shield saluted in unison, the snap of feet against earth and fist against armor echoing through the Vale.


End file.
